Of Yuletide and Youngsters
by Speedy Hobbit
Summary: What happens when we combine a holiday of funm a tweenaged Frodo, young hobbits Sam, Merry, and Fatty, and an elusive toddler named Peregrin Took?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: The idea for this little writing occurred to me as I was paging through a scrapbook on a visit home from school and grinning to myself at the crazy antics of my friends and myself at holiday celebrations when I have them over. I thought to myself _What took place at Bag End when Frodo and his friends were tweens and teens?_ I laughed at several possibilities of antics and misadventures. and then logged onto my rather ancient computer to type something that is not exactly an English paper…

In other news, I forgot my copy of Lord of the Rings at school, complete with the calendar… I fully intend to correct any date mistakes. If there are any temporary ones, then I beg your pardon and patience in my amending the flaw. Let's see how well I remember things without a book to double-check… Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything!

1 Yule 1393

It was a cold winter's evening in Hobbiton. It was so uncomfortably frigid, in fact, that all hobbits in the vicinity had retreated into the warmth of their holes seeking the comforting heat of the hearth. It was the sort of merciless cold that could freeze one straight through to the marrow. It was very still outside, save for the gusts of wind that blasted through and sent any loose earth flying through the air. There were no stars or moon to be seen, for all celestial bodies were completely covered by inky black clouds that seemed to be gathering. What these portended, few could conjecture. Were it summer, the forecast would be immediately spotted as a thunderstorm.

Within Bag End, there was quite the aggregation around the fireplace of Bilbo Baggins. The master of the hole himself was seated within his squashy armchair, and many other seats had been dragged into the room so the families of Saradoc Brandybuck, Paladin Took, Odovacar Bolger, and Hamfast Gamgee could be seated. Several empty chairs stood where the Boffins had sat, but these had opted to scurry home before whatever mischief the clouds might cause could be unleashed. The Tooks and Brandybucks had travelled from the Eastfarthing and thus were to stay, whatever might happen, and the Bolger and Gamgee families seemed uncertain upon what action to take. The Bolgers had come from Budgeford but had not intended to stay the night. They meant to depart in approximately two hours. They had almost left when the Boffins had, but Bilbo had insisted they remain for another round of food. As for the Gamgees, they had not far to proceed at all, residing just over on Bagshot Row. Even if it did rain, surely the weather might not be so onerous as to prevent them from walking a short distance?

"Another round of the Old Vinyards?" Bilbo inquired of the adults. There was a collective bobbing of the heads in the affirmative, and a great deal of grinning and appreciative gestures.

"Our dear Bilbo Baggins truly does have a most admirable collection of drink," Saradoc Brandybuck remarked to his wife Esmeralda, who nodded in concord so fervently her springy brown curls danced straight off her shoulders and fell again.

"He might even give Old Rory a run for his money," the wife added. Saradoc simply chuckled merrily as he accepted a fourth glass from the host.

It was Paladin who first noticed that a few more seats had emptied. The girls of the various families remained in the room stitching upon samplers or reading books, and a couple of the sons had lingered as well, but five children had vanished.

"Now, where has my son gotten off to?" the Thain remarked, looking about. The toddler Peregrin was nowhere to be seen. The child had recently gained the capability of running- not walking, running, and ever since then was increasingly evasive.

"Hopefully, wherever Merry, Frodo, Freddy, and Sam have gotten off to as well," responded Odovacar Bolger, who was rummaging in his pocket for a handkerchief to give his sniffling daughter Estella, who had acquired a bit of a cold. "We do know those boys are not inclined to remain in one place."

"Indeed you speak the truth," Paladin answered. "Bilbo, did you see any of the children leave?"

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Why, no, I did not! Would you like me to look for them?"

"Y-- no," Paladin had said. He had started to confirm Bilbo's question, then changed his mind. The older boys were responsible enough; they would look after the roaming young lad.

Down in the study four boys were delving into the collections of what could only be deemed "stuff," for there was a wide array of it. Maps, books, letters, notices, and various scribblings… pretty much everything. It had first been Merry who had asked "What does Uncle Bilbo keep in there?" At first Frodo had refused to let Merry, Sam, and Fatty in, but the others had wheedled and pleaded, so finally he had given in after first telling them not to make a mess. They had gotten bored with the sitting-room and listening to the adults speaking of matters about which teenagers and teenagers and children simply did not care.

"Frodo… what is this huge bundle of letters?" Fatty Bolger inquired in a slightly muffled voice; he had just taken an especially large mouthful of a piece of cake. It was intelligible to the other boys nonetheless; they were quite used to Fredegar Bolger eating massive quantities of food. It was more of an oddity when the boy was not munching upon cake, or a cookie, or fruit, or bread, or meat, or any foodstuffs- especially cake.

Taking the epistles, Frodo sought a return address. The top letter did not bear one, but the rest read "Dora Baggins." A few remained yet to be opened, but most had been.

"These are from Aunt Dora," he said. The other boys, except Sam, groaned and made various comments about her. Aunt Dora was one of their stuffier kindred, and she had the annoying habits of adjusting their clothes, lecturing them about how grubby they were, giving them smothering, sloppy and wet kisses when they passed her inspections, or, worst of all, pinching their cheeks and cooing over how much they had grown in the fortnight since she had seen them. They often tried to escape her grip, but she had astounding strength for an older hobbit-woman.

"She's not supposed to be coming, is she?" groused Merry, wincing. Frodo shrugged his shoulders.

"I would certainly hope not- though it is quite cold… and there are far more abominable possibilities for visitors; she's really not bad."

"Who could be worse?" Merry asked. "She was here for Yule… remember how we all had to take three baths? One when we woke up, one after we played outside, and one after supper? And they were cold, to boot!" He took on the most elderly, nagging voice he could manage. "Cold baths are far better for a hobbit lad's health!" The others laughed at the mimicking of their Aunt.

"They didn't do my sister any good though, she has the sniffles!" Fatty chimed in, punctuating what he had to say with a "gulp" announcing the swallowing of the last bite of cake. "But, Frodo, who is worse than her?"

The oldest of the four shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know… perhaps… let me think… the Sackville-Bagginses?"

At the mention of that detestable lot, the others cried right aloud at the very horror of the thought. The father Otho was a grouchy louse, the mother Lobelia… they could all write volumes about her- and the son Lotho was an ill-humoured bully.

"That would be Yuletide _nightmare_!" Merry Brandybuck declared, replacing the book about the Fell Winter years and years ago in the Shire upon the shelf. "Why, I as reading that the Brandywine froze over years ago, and Wargs invaded the Shire… what are Wargs, I wonder?"

Frodo looked at him. "Bilbo told me once they're like wolves- only _worse_." He racked his brain to see what he could remember being told of the Fell Winter. "Didn't they eat quite a lot of hobbits?"

"I- I think the book said so… that's really scary!" Merry declared, shivering perceptibly.

"Well, that was years ago, and the Wargs are long gone," Frodo assured the others. "It is fun to play pretend about them, though!" At that, he curled his ten fingers as though they were claws, bared his teeth, and attended to make a growling noise. The other boys chuckled, also replacing the books or letters. Frodo inspected the vicinity to ensure it looked the same as when they had arrived, and then the foursome quit the study.

"Shall we see what the parents are getting up to, then?" Frodo suggested. His two cousins nodded. Sam simply shuffled uncertainly on his feet.

"Maybe Mr. Bilbo can tell us a story, Mr. Frodo" he suggested shyly. He had the proclivity to remain quite taciturn around those of the aristocracy whom he did not know well, although Frodo had helped to draw him from his shell a good deal.

"That would be GREAT if he did!" Merry declared. "I want to hear a story!"

"I want to hear a story!" Fatty echoed. "And perhaps there will be more cake!"

At that, the four boys treaded the length of the corridor, shivering perceptibly at one point as they passed an ajar door leading to the outside- which remained unnoticed- and rejoined those in the sitting-room, taking their chairs.

"Welcome back, you four," Bilbo said, smiling. "Would you like some tea and crump-"

Just then, the wife of Paladin Took interrupted, her voice shrill. "Where's Peregrin?!" she cried aloud."


	2. He's the most curious of them all

-1**Author's Note: **Finally, inspiration for Chapter Two! And many ideas for updates on all of the other stories I have not touched for months, even years- (I seriously haven't touched my Fatty Bolger one since I was sixteen? I turn 21 in September!) have come upon me as well... ahhhh, gotta love long runs. I got assailed by a legion of plot bunnies on my first ten-mile run in almost two years... I have not had one that long since I sustained a bad IT band injury in January 2006- on New Year's Day!- that slaughtered the remainder of my inddor track season and all of outdoor. And now I am up to ten-mile runs, thank you God! And I get my best story ideas on runs... so just... yay! My apologies for not having updated anything in so long, as long as inane and pointless rambling in my author's notes that I am ever so fond of. :-)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing!

Chapter 2

"Where is Peregrin?" Eglantine repeated, getting to her feet, brown eyes wildly scanning everything within her line of vision for her son... why, he was virtually a fauntling, and he had vanished from what was supposed to be the watchful eyes of his older cousins! How could the boys have been so irresponsible as to permit her son to evade their line of vision? She glared at first Samwise, then Fredegar, then Frodo, and finally Meriadoc.

Perplexed, the four boys turned to look behind them and along the length of the hallway from whence they had come, expecting to discern the toddling hobbit-child crawling or awkwardly walking behind them. However, the youngest Took was not to be found. Alarmed, the children exchanged worried glances- the grown-ups were going to be positively furious with them!

It was Frodo who hesitantly voiced the information the four were loath to divulge. "We... we do not know, Aunt Eglantine."

In response, Pippin's mother turned pale. Paladin Took also got to his feet and strode across the room so that he was directly in front of the children. Crossly placing his hands upon his hard and anger coming into his green eyes, he who was in line to succeed the current Thain of Tookland Ferumbras imperiously inquired, "And when did you last see my son?"

"Er..." Frodo looked away, down at the ground. The other boys shifted uneasily behind him. Sam's face had went bright red, Merry's hands were clenching and unclenching within the pockets of his breeches, and Fatty had completely forgotten the last handful of cake he was grasping.

"Er..." the tweenager repeated again- "Well, he was just behind us when we left the sitting room, I know that, he followed us when we quit the area... er... I thought he had come to the study all the way!"

"Me as well," 11-year-old Merry offered. "He was pulling on my foot a few times, and I told him to stop and he did."

"If you knew he was following you," Paladin began, "then you should have picked him up and carried him! You know he likes to wander off."

It was Merry who responded, "He always follows me everywhere though! I think that little fauntling has grown quite fond of me!"

Eglantine managed a small smile. "Indeed he is. He has seemed as though he were trying to say your name... among the few words he has managed, one of them is 'Meh-wy' along with ;Mummy' and 'Da' and other standard words for fauntlings."

The young child's eyes widened with astonishment at these rather unexpected news. "Really?"

"Really," Paladin responded. "However... we must find him."

"Indeed we must," Bilbo spoke, joining Peregrin's parents in front of the four boys. "And I would like all four of you to help us. Frodo-lad, I wish for you to lead your cousin and friend around the smial to look for him... I especially wish for you to check the bedrooms and the kitchen, or my study again- any room, essentially, that has objects that might attract a fauntling. We adults shall divide up and search all of the rooms ourselves as well- but you know your cousin better with all of your story-telling, I surmise."

Nodding in obedience, Frodo turned back into the hallway and made directly for the kitchen, closely followed by the others. Pippin was already showing signs of potentially being among the more gluttonous of hobbit-children, and it was possible he had found some of the food in there. If not in the kitchen, he thought, the pantry was the next most-likely location.

Entering the kitchen, two seta of brown eyes, one hazel, and one blue scanned the vicinity. It was no good, Pippin was there. Three turned to leave, but Merry suggested, "Maybe he is trying to play hide-and-seek." After all, he recalled, that had been his own means of tormenting his babysitters. He would find a small space to conceal himself and patiently wait to see hew long it took his frazzled relative to locate him. Frodo himself would remember that game, actually- he had proved far more adept than most at locating the shifty child.

Indeed Frodo remembered, for he laughed. "You did that to e all the time! Have you taught him that lesson, you scoundrel?"

"Of course not... but perhaps the little scamp somehow figured it out for himself! Merry suggested, looking under all of the chairs. Frodo checked behind the various furniture required of a hobbit-kitchen, while Fatty ducked under the storage cupboards. Sam, meanwhile, lingered at the door, feeling awkward. He wanted to help, but it would be most improper to go rifling through all of the Baggins' things... his strict and socially aware father would surely be most displeased if he invaded the privacy of his Da's employers.

No sign of Pippin anywhere.

"Well, he has not found these cookies," Fatty remarked, indicating a jar. Opening it, he took one for himself and began munching.

A visit to the pantry proved as fruitless as the one to the kitchen, and the dining room did not help either. The adults seemed to be checking the very opposite end of the smial, as Frodo observed. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Bilbo's adopted son thoughtfully asked, "What are Pippin's sisters doing? Are they searching, or just the adults?"

"Ithinktheyweresewing" Fatty said very fast, through a very large mouthful of some unknown food. In fact, he had filched a second, particularly large cookie, undetected by the others.

"Pardon?" Frodo asked, unable to make out the muffled and fast words.

Freddy swallowed, a large lump visible in his throat as the food began its descent in his gullet. "I think they were sewing.

"That's right..." Frodo said absently, blue eyes staring thoughtfully in a ceiling-bound direction.

"Maybe they know Pippin's favourite sort of places," Merry suggested. It was a distinct possibility, for they lived with Pippin. Several of his slightly older cousins- Frodo included- had foiled his childish plots to escape years before simply by knowing random facts about him, such as the one that he was fond of shiny objects in his years as a fauntling.

"Fair point," Frodo said, taking off down the hall, with Merry close behind, Sam after him, and Fatty puffing along at the rear. If Folco were still here, he would have passed all four- he was a most fleet-footed youngster, Folco Boffin!

"Any luck?" Pearl asked, her green eyes peeping over the top of the sampler.

Not concerning himself with answering in the negative, Frodo asked "What kind of places does Pippin enjoy when he wanders off? Does he do that often at home?"

"YES, all of the time" Pearl responded rather vehemently. As the eldest, it was to her whom her father always delegated the task of baby-sitting, although Pimpernel and occasionally Pervinca shared in the work once in a while when Pearl had other obligations to attend to, such as instruction in proper conduct as an aristocratic hobbit-woman, or letters, or reading, or music.

"He loves the kitchen. He nibbles on everything within reach that can be eaten!" Pervinca offered.

That information was not particularly helpful, for Peregrin's budding sweet-tooth was no secret to any cousin that got to spend even a single day with the precocious fauntling. He did have a penchant for pilfering dessert- dessert or mushrooms. It was a common opinion that he learned how to steal sweets even before the time it is generally expected for a child to distinguish between tasty desserts and more wholesome options such as carrots and celery. Even more astonishingly, he had been caught by his middle sister Pimpernel happily indulging in a piece of crumpet he had managed to procure- when teething! When he still had hardly any teeth! Evidently he had particularly strong gums! After those teeth had come in, Peregrin had been most pleased to experiment with this addendum to his anatomy on food, dishes, furniture- people... his sister Pervinca still had visible scarring on one arm from when she had been holding her brother and he had decided to see how hard he could bite her arm. The answer? Quite forcefully. The then-six-year-old girl had immediately shrieked and burst into tears, nearly dropping her brother, and their mother had immediately berated the fauntling with a "Bad Peregrin! Bad!" and whisked the infant from her youngest daughter's arms. Fortunately, Peregrin had subsequently desisted in biting people- apparently he had decided that the taste of the results of breaking skin quite repulsive.

"We knew that" Merry said. "What else?"

The sisters exchanged glances. The others present were simply watching the proceedings, although 8-year-old Estella Bolger had thrown her crudely sewn sampler aside in boredom and was now very interested in kicking her heels against the legs of the chair.

"He likes seeing what's behind a door, so if one is ajar, he'll go through it," Pimpernel recalled.

"He is very curious," Pervinca chimed in. "He is one of those for whom we can NEVER allow a sharp or poisonous object within reach!" After that, the sisters had no more to say. However, the young search party decided that they were sufficiently informed- for the present.

Frodo nodded. "That helps... thank you. If you think of anything else, come find us."

The boys removed themselves to the hallway. "We don't really know anything," Fatty said, "all fauntlings are curious."

"Not as much as Peregrin! He is quite the probing and prodding little pip!" Merry astutely observed. Frodo nodded in agreement, and Sam did likewise. He still had not spoken at all, but now he was crossing his arms and shivering silently. He was growing rather cold, but did not wish to take a chance of offending Frodo by complaining so. He thought he could feel a draft emanating through the corridor as well.

That was rather queer, actually. His own home often had drafts, but Mr. Bilbo was typically good at maintaining warmth with the hearth, especially with visiting relatives. This was among the very few times he had felt uncomfortable temperature-wise in here. Was it simply because it was a particularly frigid winter? Most likely, he decided.

While Peregrin's cousins speculated, Sam idly looked around, only half-listening. Suddenly, his brown eyes fell upon- a door. A door leading outside was standing ajar. No wonder it was so cold in here! He shifted his weight uncertainly on his feet. Ought he to simply close it? But closing a door without permission might just as easily be construed as bold a breach of etiquette as insinuating that his hosts were incompetent at warming the smial with a fire.

"What is it, Sam?" Frodo suddenly asked.

Startling, the Gamgee lad swallowed, then shyly asked, "May I close that door, please? It is rather chilly in here." He pointed at the open door.

The open door! Frodo's blue eyes widened with a mixture of realization and horror. An open door to outside, in the bitter cold and dark and wind! What was more, white flakes were falling from the sky... it was beginning to snow!

Snow was rare and an occasion for celebration in the Shire, but it was common knowledge that while it was snowing, particularly as hard as the fluffy white flakes were plummeting from the dark sky, it was prudent to remain in the shelter of one's house or hole.

Unfortunately, the door was wide open enough to admit a fauntling of exactly Pippin's size to the outside world. And as a curious young child who loved seeing what stood behind a door, and because outside was very large, there was no denying that had those impish green eyes spotted this open portal of opportunity, he would have diverted from any path to take it.

"I think he went outside," Frodo whispered, almost to himself, transfixed with worry.


End file.
